Monsters are awesome.

Whether reading about them being chopped down in classics like Beowulf or watching them wreak havoc in new forays such as Cloverfield, there seems to be a timeless love affair with monsters. And my (admittedly limited) knowledge of world culture tells me this isn’t just an American lust — Puerto Rico houses the chupacabra, Egypt touts the mummy, and Japan…well, everyone knows about Japan’s contribution.

While I love watching monsters do their whole loathe/kill/destroy humanity thing, I find it a bit more enjoyable to watch them on their downtime. It’s like being a fan of a band — at a certain point, your respect for their work drives you  to become curious about their personal lives. This is nothing to be ashamed about.

Fortunately, with the 1960’s came The Munsters — a sitcom devoted to showing how monsters really behave.

In case you’ve never seen the show, the basic premise is as follows: a Frankenstein named Herman is in an interspecies marriage with a vampire named Lily. Somehow, these two have managed to procreate — resulting in their son Eddie, a werewolf. To appease his father-in-law’s racist skepticism of Frankensteins, Herman supports Grandpa by allowing him to shack up with them at the 1313 Mockingbird Lane residence. To top it all off, Lily’s superhot (somehow human) niece Marilyn lives with them too.

The Munsters helps us learn that monsters just regular people, uh, well, regular things like  you  and me.  Also, the show utilizes laugh-tracks and fast-motion, both of which are plus-signs in my rank book.

Oh, and don’t even bother waltzing in here with any arguments about The Addams Family even being a contender against The Munsters. One is a show about mythical beings living together and the other is about a bunch of damn freaks and perverts.

If I wanted to see that, I’d just eat dinner with my family.

Ghostbusters II is an absolute cinematic masterpiece. No other film provides quite a perfect blend of humor, science fiction, horror and (of course) Ernie Hudson. Thinking about it now, I realize that I have probably watched this movie from start to finish more than any other. The sequel to Ghostbusters is an important part of my life and I hope that it is for you as well.

But just in case it isn’t, I’ve decided to use OCTOBERFEAST to persuade you. A little known fact is Ghostbusters II features Bobby Brown’s On Our Own, known to critics and thespians everywhere as the all-time greatest song in a soundtrack. Yes, even before marrying & ruining Whitney Houston, Bobby Brown was doing fantastic things.

For your viewing pleasure…And to help you prepare for the impending invasion of ghouls and ghosts…

Bobby Brown’s On Our Own — set to a terrible slide show of still shots from Ghostbusters II:

I’m sorry for those already offended. But I have a serious question. Or rather, a juvenile question that crossed my mind. Does triple penetration count, if you’re cheesing it with a sex toy instead of a finger or even tongue or weiner?

I mean, I find it impressive. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s sort of like how the Red Sox won the Wild Card with a Rangers’ loss. It counts, but it just isn’t the same. C’mon, you know you want to comment.

Today is the first day of October, unofficially the sickest month of all. Although September and November try to represent, October is autumn. This is the month you use for apple-picking, seasonal beers, hayrides, frolics in pumpkin patches, and all that other good stuff. Living in New England, I get to see sick foliage every time I step outside. In a sense, life is good.

But most importantly, October is all about Halloween.

Question: Is there a better holiday?

Answer: No.

Christmas? Thanksgiving? Arbor Day? Fuck that. Halloween is a celebration of costumes, free candy, horror movies, vandalism, alcohol consumption, Satanism, and carved-out pumpkin-decapitations. At a concert a few years back, I heard Mikael Akerfeldt describe Halloween perfectly: “All Hallow’s Eve…Will you trick and treat? Or get drunk and fuck?”

In honor of Halloween and its preceding month, I am presenting Omega-Level’s First (and Last) Annual OCTOBERFEAST. Once a day, I am going to post a video that has a connection to either Halloween or October. Sometimes, the connection will be clear and solid. Other times, the connection will be tenuous at best (probably when I try to post after doing the Friday Brew Review). But at the very least, I’m helping you get into the holiday spirit.

So, without further adieu…

The goddamn Monster Mash:

I’ve totally sucked at updating Omega Level the last few days, and for that I apologize. I’ve been busy with tutoring, school, too many sporting events, and my writing gig over at Mishka Bloglin. I’ve been out of the loop for the most part too. It’s fucking daunting, turning your back on the infostream. All of a sudden you’ve been gone for two days, and there’s roughly four-zillion things to catch up on. Here, have a bulletin.

1. The Final Fantasy XIII trailer from the Tokyo Game Show is fucking gorgeous.
2. Going into Pandorum, I knew the movie was going to suck. Then it preceded to be the worst movie I’ve seen in ages.
3. Speaking of sucking cocks covered in open sores, the first episode of Dollhouse S2 continues the show’s tradition of being absolutely unbearable.
4. In the span of a month, there’s five games (two on one day) that I want to play/cover for Omega Level. Brutal Legend, Uncharted 2, Borderlands, Ratchet & Clank, and Modern Warfare 2. I fucking hate this time of year for gaming. It’s amazing/awful.
5. Pepsibones is my brother, and he does a fair share of posts far better than mine. For those wondering who was penning the Friday Night Brew Review it’s him. His liver and sanity are taking a hit for you fucks. Get drunk with him and read reviews such as these.
6. You owe it to yourself to watch Community on NBC. It’s on Thursday nights, after The Office.

What have you been up to?

If there’s one thing you know I love, it’s Fallout 3. Which is why I’m excited for Denzel Washington’s movie The Book of Eli. Why is that? Well, it stars a dude wandering a post-apocalyptic wasteland with some mysterious item promising a resurrection or some shit. Yeah, it’s Fallout. It also has ridiculous ass-whupping action. And Commissioner Gordon.

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Jesus sweet Christ, I turn my back on MMA news for like one day and I miss Rampage Jackson retiring? Over a fucking role in the A-Team movie? Dana White was understandably pissed when Rampage had to delay his fight when Rashad Evans over some shitty movie. So Dana talked some shit. And Rampage? Oh yeah, he quit.

Via Cagewriter:

…so I’m done fighting. I’ve been getting negative reviews from the dumb ass fans that don’t pay my bills or put my kids though college. So I’m hanging it up. I’m gonna miss all my loyal fans but hopefully they’ll follow me to my new career & I will gain more loyal fans along the way. & all you hater fans out there can kiss my big black hairy [expletive]! & anybody that don’t like what I just said can come try to kick my [expletive]!

What the shit? Rampage isn’t my favorite fighter – that would go to Black Neo, aka Anderson Silva. But he’s the funniest dude going in the octagon, and every time they get a microphone near him you’re about to witness comedic gold. Not to mention I’d be sweating his fight with Rashad Evans for the past seventy-nine months. Now the dude is hanging it up so he can act? Whatever Rampage is sniffing, the goods are potent, and I probably want some.

This blows.

Hopefully this is just a tough-dude throwing a sissy-fit. Because I’ve seen your future, and I don’t think you’re going to make it rich playing the titular role in The Scorpion King IV: Black Scorpion Voodoo. Please baby, come back.

The way everyone is going nuts about Kanye West you’d think he was caught molesting children.

Oh wait.

We don’t lash into child molesters, now do we? Well, I mean we do. But not ones that didn’t make a significant contribution to the pop industry, molest countless boys and bribe their parents, and perform surgery after surgery on themselves until they look like an unrecognizable monster from my dreams.

I’ve found the past week to be generally disappointing for a humanity I don’t have much faith in already. The pervasiveness of Kanyegate is staggering. It’s everywhere. Twitter updates. Facebook status updates. On the news. On the radio.

Who the fuck cares. Why the fuck cares! Who the fuck cares?

I find it particularly saddening that a dude crashes the stage of a shitty pop infomercial and it brings hell down upon him. Of course he acted like a goddamn schmuck. Is that really debatable? He apologizes a day later and it ain’t good enough. No way. No how.

Why?

Because you’re being told you’re supposed to be outraged. It’s a convenient little bit of fast-food pop-news to keep the fat docile populace from really thinking about anything worth fucking mentioning.

Then there’s Michael Jackson. A man commits a laundry list of sex crimes against little boys and he’s lauded as Pop Jesus. The way people cried and cried and oh-my-gosh-I-can’t-believe-he-died sentiment that was vomited across the walls of media was disgusting.

What the fuck is going on here? How is it that a guy who crashed the gate of a Shit Castle becomes a public enemy, while another pop-star can get away from having children fondle his nipples.

It’s insanity in motion.

People’s memories have become so tailored by the exertion of the media it’s absurd. Newscast after newscast told everyone, you’re supposed to be sad, Michael died! Oh my gosh Michael died! No, not Michael! The world’s only lost a child-molesting pill-popper! How are we ever going to cope? Who is going to cure AIDS? Who is going to solve cancer? Who is going to create the ultimate renewable energy?

More importantly, who is going to be a sexual threat to our children?

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I bought Scribblenauts for my girlfriend yesterday. It’s a pretty dope puzzle game, and I knew she’d like it. I watched her play it for a bit, and it seems fun enough. But then I came to a pretty big disagreement with the game over the concept of vulgarity and what constitutes it.

Caffeine: Do you think you can use a dildo in the game? Or is that vulguar?

Note how I even have to ask this.

Far Too Patient Girlfriend: I’m pretty sure that’s vulgar.

Insert some serious silence while I ponder.

Caffeine: Really? Like…really?

I again doze off into rumination.

Far Too Patient Girlfriend: It’s a dildo.

Caffeine: Yeah, exactly! I mean, it’s a device that brings pleasure. How is that vulgar?

Sorry Scribblenauts, we’re going to have to agree to disagree. Apparently you’re like everyone else in this boring Puritanical country. I mean, I should have known we’d part ways. I’m the same guy that finds it completely acceptable to discuss bowel movements and masturbation at the dinner table with my eighty-seven year-old Nana. I mean, c’mon! It’s just a beautiful scientific discovery we’ve fashioned to give women and me pleasure. It’s not vulgar, it’s beautiful.

Pepsibones and myself have been pretty high on Kid Cudi for a while now. I was pretty excited about his album Man on the Moon: The End of the Day. And then I heard it, and it lit my expectations on fire and kicked them down the stairs. In a good way.

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